


(don't) catch me now

by chickentine



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickentine/pseuds/chickentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or The Five (and a Half) Times Meryl Fell (and the One Time She Didn’t) </p><p>The mishaps (and not-so mishaps) in the life of Meryl Davis according to the good old 5+1 fanfiction format</p>
            </blockquote>





	(don't) catch me now

**Author's Note:**

> "If you were falling  
> then I would catch you."  
> -"The Way I Am," Ingrid Michaelson 
> 
> Charlie White once told the USFSA interviewer, "ice is slippery. Things happen." 
> 
> Meryl agreed on both counts. Ice is slippery. Things happen.  
> But, as she learns every time, a slippery sheet of ice isn't the only reason for a figure skater to fall.

**Five (and a Half) Times Meryl Fell (and the One Time She Didn’t)**

**1.**

They were teenagers when they started doing the more complicated lifts.

They started off-ice, of course, with Charlie holding her as they spun on the mat-covered floor. He was still getting used to his body - in the awkward stages of adolescence with the added height and limbs longer than he was used to – how was he supposed to get used to hers as well?

He held her by the waist for what felt like the thousandth time that day and, as he felt her almost imperceptible nod and her core tighten, he did the lift.

It went well, but something wasn’t quite right.

So he tried again. And again. And again.

He was sure Meryl was dizzy. Not that he would know for sure, of course. Meryl was always defensive about her depth perception problems. She never complained about them and snapped when Charlie or Seth would give her a querying glance, a concerned nod.

“I’m okay, it’s nothing, we’re wasting time,” she would say.

So Charlie had learned to read her without words, to feel the silent shifts, the little nuances that told him that Meryl has had enough, that maybe that run-through had spun her a bit too much.

By their tenth consecutive run, he knew that the lift - the short, but new and intricate one from their _Chocolat_ free dance - still wasn’t quite right. He saw it in the slight crease in their coach’s forehead. He felt it when his elbows locked slightly when they shouldn’t. When he set Meryl down, he cringed inwardly at the sound her shoes made on the soft mats.

But he also knew that _Meryl_ wasn’t quite right either. Her movements weren’t flowing like they were supposed to. He heard her slightly gasping for breath, her inward sighs of frustration. He could see her on the full-length mirror, squeezing her eyes shut.

He set her down.

Only, it did not go as he planned and Meryl went tumbling-–no, flying-–out of his grasp.  She crumpled on the ground, a merciful few inches from the unforgivingly hard wall.

“Meryl!” he yelled as  dread and worry crashed over him

This was his _partner_ , he was supposed to protect her, not send her flying out of his arms and crashing on the floor. He ran to her and skidded to a stop near her. This was the first time he could remember Meryl falling on a liftand he thanked every god that may exist that they weren’t on ice. He bit his lip in worry and wondered if it was too late to find a better, stronger partner for Meryl.

To his surprise, Meryl sat up and …. _laughed?_

“Charlie,” she said between giggles. Charlie couldn’t help but think that her laughter sounded just like music. “I’m sorry about laughing at you the other day, but you could’ve told me instead of flinging me halfway across the room!”

Charlie glowered at her. _This is no laughing matter_ , he chided her silently _. You could’ve hit your head on the wall. I would never intentionally throw you like that. What do you think of me?_

As always, Meryl seemed to read his mind as she sat up and placed her hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

 _You fling her across the room and she comforts you?_ Charlie chided himself.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Meryl said softly. “Accidents happen. It’s not your fault, okay?”

She chuckled. “And besides, falls are bound to happen.”

Charlie smiled back. He stood up and stretched his hand out. She took it, like she’s supposed to. He pulled her up, like he always does.

“Alright, Meryl.”

 

**2.**

Meryl is a figure skater. She’s supposed to be used to impact. She’s supposed to be used to falling on a cold, hard surface, having the wind knocked out of her, and pulling herself back up to stand on a few millimeters of steel on slippery wet ice.

She once told NBC how their shins were permanently bruised and how Charlie had marks from her blades from years past. It was true--even if she conveniently failed to mention how their _elbows_ were bruised as well.

Her sport may not be a contact sport, but it sure made her accustomed to impact.

But why, _why_ did this one hurt so much?

“I thought you should know before the media did,” Charlie had said so casually. “I’m dating Tanith.”

Meryl had smiled, patted Charlie on the back, and gave him her congratulations. But inside she was _seething_.

“ _He’s dating our biggest competitor before Nationals!”_ she wailed to Tessa over the phone that night. Tessa, bless her soul, had offered her sincerest consolations.

“You’re still the better skater,” Tessa had declared unapologetically. “And I’ve got your back.”

“ _I just can’t believe he would do this,”_ Meryl had bawled.

“I can’t either! Unbelievable!”

Later that night, after Meryl had gently set the phone down (after Tessa’s repeated consolations and fluently hissed French curses), she laid back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, sniffling.

Charlie was dating their biggest US competitor. She was unspeakably angry that Charlie would do something this airheaded on their biggest season. They’ve worked for this for thirteen years, longer than half the marriages in America–-how could he do _this_?

 _Get a grip, girl_ , she repeated to herself. It didn’t matter much, really. She knew Charlie well. They had dated other people before and it never affected their training sessions or performances. He was professional and there was no way he was going to sabotage–- _or let_ her _sabotage,_ Meryl thought darkly before catching herself–-more than a decade’s hard work for a relationship.

“ _Why_ are you so upset about this?” her mother had asked shrewdly when Meryl had called her in tears. Meryl had been unable to answer.

 _Yeah, why?_ Meryl thought. _Why am I so upset about this?_

 _Maybe it isn’t the fact that Charlie’s dating our biggest competitor. Maybe it’s because Charlie’s dating. And he’s not dating_ you _._

Meryl groaned and buried her head in her pillow. It was no big secret, how positively attractive Charlie was. He had his cherubic curls, his disarming smile, his witty sense of humor, his _intelligence._ It had not been an issue when they were kids--they were _kids--_ but as they grew older, Meryl couldn’t help her gaze lingering a second longer, her cheeks faintly reddening at an offhand comment here and there. But Meryl had boundless reserves of self-control and a good, long conversation with him a few seasons earlier had set their boundaries. They were to remain friends, no matter what, because being lovers on ice always ended badly and they had dreams bigger than adolescent yearnings. 

But she couldn’t help herself sometimes. Not with the way Charlie smiled at her or with the strong, sure way he lifted her or with the way he stared deeply in her eyes when they had to emote. Or with the way he grinned sheepishly at her, like a little boy, whenever she gave him a ride to the rink. Or with the way he patted her on the back and folded her in his arms after every program.

Meryl forced herself to sleep that night, counting puppies instead of sheep. It would take her a few more years to fully admit it to herself, but she was falling–-no, she _had fallen_ –-for Charlie White, who had apparently fallen for someone else.

After thousands of spills from a lifetime on ice, _this_ was her hardest fall yet.

And boy, did it hurt.

 

**3.**

Skate America 2010 was supposed to signal their Great Restart after their Olympic Silver Medal and edging out Tanith and Ben. It was supposed to showcase their talent that got them that far in the Olympics. It was supposed to show that they deserved to be called the best in America.

It was not supposed to be the time for Charlie’s crisis of emotion.

“Emote! Emote!” Marina had yelled everyday during their practices.

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Charlie would grumble back.

Having had enough of it, Meryl had shoved Charlie in frustration after a particularly grueling practice.

“What the  hell, Charlie!” she had practically yelled. “I know I’m not your girlfriend. I know you don’t want to tango with me. But _what the hell_! We both want to win Worlds! So suck it up and for four _fucking_ minutes, just _pretend_ you want me!”

Charlie had felt a dam break inside at Meryl’s words, her uncharacteristic curse, the fire in her eyes that had nothing to do with the passion of the tango.

Something inside had threatened to yell back _“But I do want you! I really do!”_

“Okay,” he had eked out. Softly, apologetically. This was his fault, he knew. But what could he do? He had a girlfriend. He wasn’t supposed to want another woman, was he?

Meryl had felt her heart break at Charlie’s soft apology.

_Why were things so difficult?_

“Charlie,” she begun, and tried to choke back the waves of disappointment and frustration. “Last year, you played a doomed man ruined by the love of his life. But that’s not how it was, was it? I’m not-–” she choked a bit. Steeling herself, she continued.

“I’m not the love of your life and I didn’t ruin your life or chop off your hair or abandon you. We make a living by _pretending_ there’s magic on ice. So I need you to pretend there is. I know I’m not Tanith. I’ll _never_ be Tanith, I know that. But please, please. I want this so badly. _We_ want this so badly. We want to win Worlds. We want to kill this quad.”

Meryl had felt her own heart breaking with her own words and Charlie’s devastated, frustrated stare.

“Okay, Charlie?”

Charlie had mustered up a smile. _Anything for you._

“Alright, Meryl.”

So now here they were, at Skate America. The last few practices had gone well. Marina had nearly cried out of joy at Charlie’s renewed passion, the fire in their eyes, the utter need in their every move.

They entered the ice on their free dance a little more ready, a little more impassioned, a little more right. Charlie glimpsed their mothers on the stands, holding each other’s hands in anticipation. He saw Tanith with her encouraging smile. Meryl saw their mothers as well and turned to look at Charlie for a second before they began.

Everything seemed okay. Everything felt okay. Not their best, but still passable. Not fire, but flickering warmth disguised under layers of athleticism.

Until Charlie dropped  her - _and himself_ \- during a simple tango sequence.

Meryl wanted to be angry. She yearned for fire in their dance but got Charlie’s poor excuse for acting instead. She yearned for a safe and perfect performance but got an athletic routine that had her behind smashing on the ice in front of thousands. She yearned for Charlie’s eye contact but got his stare at her forehead instead. 

Simple things, how hard were they to achieve?

She wanted to be furious, she really did. But she was tired and sore and Charlie looked  so apologetic.  The fall _had_ been for a just few seconds-–although she could still hear the gasps of disbelief-–because Charlie had been quick to scoop themselves up so she couldn’t bring herself to be _angry._

 _I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ , Charlie repeated over and over in his head. It was a stupid, careless mistake. His knees had wobbled. He had messed up.

Seemingly reading his mind, Meryl smiled at him a little wistfully, and on they went. 

It was a victorious ending and the program was, overall, remarkable. They had to smile as they bowed. Sure, the fall was chosen as the part played during the highlights right after their program. Sure, comments would later range from ‘passionless tango’ to ‘exquisite athletic tango.’ But it had succeeded and, she was sure, the athletic intensity was perfect.

Beyond the reach of the microphones in the Kiss and Cry, Charlie muttered through his forced grin, _“I’m sorry, Meryl.”_

To his surprise, Meryl snorted, chuckled, and in a low voice, responded.

_“Fun fact, Charlie. That’s the first time you’ve dropped me in a major competition. And you fell too, so it’s not completely your fault.”_

Charlie gaped at her. _It wasn’t his fault because he fell too?_

_“Where is your logic, Davis?”_

_“I don’t know,”_ Meryl replied airily, voice still low. _“Must’ve dropped it when we fell.”_

She smiled at him.

It wasn’t, by far, their best skate. It had little flaws and the passion just wasn’t _there_. And there was the fall. But anyone could see that it was powerful, that they could do passion. There was a long way to go to make it Worlds title-worthy.

But looking at Meryl, with her smile and forgiveness and _love_ shining in her eyes, he knew he was willing to go through that long way.

He smiled back.

_“Still sorry, Meryl.”_

_“Me too. It’s okay, Charlie.”_

 

**3.5**

Then there was Fedor, of course.

Fedor was her first long-term boyfriend. Theirs was the first relationship of hers that reached the stage of shared apartment keys, frequent and unannounced visits to her family’s home, long and lazy afternoons that turned to nights and nights that turned into mornings, and the gaping and uncertain but exhilarating chasm that was the prospect of a future, the unmentioned _after_ that would follow her illustrious skating career.

She loved Fedor.

And he never failed to let her know that it was a mutual sentiment.

He made her happy and excited and so, so _loved._ He made her look forward to every date night, every long conversation, every out-of-town trip. His smolder, well, _smoldered_ her within. There were no dead silences, no what-ifs, and best of all, no boundaries, no statutes of limitation on their relationship. They were _free._ And Meryl wanted–-no, _needed_ –-that.

But she just _blanched_ every time someone gushed over how they had _fallen_ for each other.

Because she didn’t. As she later reasoned out, she _grew_ to love him. She had always known of him, always admired his clever teaching style for his students, always gushed over his piercing eyes and brooding features. Then later on, he had started noticing her and slowly, she found herself enjoying every moment with him.

It hadn’t been a swift plummet or a blinding crash or even a slow but roaring fall. It had been a stately glide, a graceful drift into love.

Meryl sometimes wondered, though, if it was all a matter of _relativity_ , of comparison, of an unconsciously set standard _._ That maybe, if she hadn’t known the indescribable, convoluted _travesty_ of falling in love with Charlie White, she could say that she had certainly, certainlyfallen for Fedor Andreev.

 

**4.**

The 2013-2014 season was, by far, the most stressful one.

There were no surprises heading in this season. There were no guarantees of whether it was to be their last. There were no guarantees if they would sweep everything again or if their career would be dubbed as “the one with the alternating wins.”

There _was_ one ironclad guarantee, however. And that was that they were giving their _all_ to win the Olympic Gold.

Giving their all was as painful and so utterly draining as it sounded. It meant Tanith had to deal with a wiped-out Charlie on their couch every night, face smushed on the pillow or glasses askew and mouth gaping open in a snore. It meant Fedor had to tone down his date nights with Meryl, sometimes even settling for a quiet night on her couch with a movie and having her doze off beside him, her face nuzzled in the crook of his neck. It meant their families saw less and less of them, with little DJ being guiltily ignored in favor of an extra hour of sleep.

Two weeks into their training and the signs of wear and tear were rampant.

Meryl knew Charlie had bruises on his thigh from what they knew would be the lift to silence the crowd in their free dance. She had seen him, accidentally–-although after seventeen years, there were barely any pretenses of modesty left between them–-as he came from the shower room in his underwear. She had to bite back a gasp. They _were_ used to bruises. And oddly enough, most of them came from each other, with Charlie’s from Meryl’s blades digging on his thighs and Meryl’s from Charlie’s fingers holding her in an ironclad grip during difficult lifts.

But somehow, she felt guilty with this set of bruises, particularly considering how much she _loved_ that lift, how it matched the music perfectly and made her feel like she was soaring. So she tried to alleviate it, watching her calories more intently, working out more intensely, shifting her weight until her thighs ached.

Until, of course, Charlie caught her. He had been furious, his blue eyes stormy, and Meryl had to endure an angry Charlie barely eking his words out.

“ _Stupid thing to do … it’s my job … what the_ hell, _Mer? Counting calories? Setting the treadmill on crazy? … you could’ve_ starved _yourself … don’t do that ever again, dammit.”_

Meryl had sulked. But she knew Charlie was right, so she gave a placating smile and promised.

Charlie, on the other hand, knew that the crazy lifts were driving Meryl mad. On one particularly grueling Friday training session, he practically _felt_ her stomach churn and saw her turn a sickly shade of green after an ungodly number of run-throughs with their lift combination. She had squirmed until he finally set her down as carefully as he could. Without a word, she speed-skated to the exit, haphazardly shoved her skate guards on, and ran for the toilet.

Charlie followed suit, not waiting for Marina’s worried nod, and spent what felt like an eternity, smoothing Meryl’s hair out of the way as she kneeled over the toilet, throwing up what felt like everything she had eaten in the last twenty-four hours. She was sobbing in embarrassment and agony, but Charlie said nothing, save for murmured words of comfort.

“It’s okay _,”_ he said repeatedly, hoping Meryl would stop crying. _We’ve been through so much, for goodness’ sake, why would she be embarrassed about this?_ Finally, Meryl scrubbed her face clean, sat back on the cold floor, and murmured, “ _I’m sorry, my head was killing me the entire day, I shouldn’t’ve stayed up the entire night reading.”_

 _Why didn’t she say anything,_ Charlie thought, _why?_ But he knew why. It was the same reason why he tried to hide his asthma attacks, why he bailed out on a few date nights with Tanith, why he suffered through acting lessons. There were things bigger than themselves, and for now, it was their childhood dream and their nation’s hope. So, instead of yelling at her like he wanted to, he smoothed her hair out of her eyes again and helped her up. _“Shh_ , it’s okay, Meryl. _”_

Meryl and Charlie knew that training was no joke, just as they knew that they _always_ had each other to count on.

But the journey wasn’t always tender or full of support and love.

Sometimes, it was just _frustrating._

“ _Why can’t you do it?_ ” Marina was yelling. “ _Why?”_

They were training their opening lift and it was a lift they started conceptualizing three years earlier. Marina and Oleg had finally figured out the mechanics involved and it had been an entire week since they started training it. It was incredibly difficult. With the intensity of the lift, both balked at the prospect of yanking Meryl’s arms off their sockets and the precision and timing involved.

Charlie was sullen, Meryl was frazzled, Oleg expressionless, and Marina looked ready to explode.

“I’m so sorry, Marina,” Meryl began, before she was cut off with Charlie’s glare.

Marina skated towards the boards, muttering curses in Russian.

“Break,” Oleg muttered and left.

Meryl and Charlie were now alone to themselves and Meryl was _terrified._ Charlie looked so frustrated, so _angry_ and she wondered if she could escape his approaching wrath. But he was her best friend and her _partner_ and she wasn’t going to leave him alone.

Charlie, on the other hand, was nearly apoplectic with frustration and rage. Was the Olympic really worth this dangerous lift, the innumerable hours and _moments_ they have missed out, the bruises and cuts and dislocations and abrasions, the _could’ve-beens_?

At that moment, he had no idea.

But he was taught to focus on the smaller problems before answering bigger questions. They were getting the lift right that day, _no matter what_.

“We are doing the lift. _Now.”_

Meryl looked up, surprised. “But, Charlie – ”

“ _Now.”_

They got into position.  Meryl was full of foreboding. It went against her most basic sensibilities to do one of their most dangerous lifts with an _angry_ Charlie.But Charlie had his hand held out impatiently, his eyes smoldering in frustration.

And Meryl _did_ want to master the lift as soon as possible.

The hardest part, really, was coordinating themselves so that Meryl gained enough height and landed properly on Charlie’s back. Charlie had no problem with the power and strength required to have Meryl fly so high. Meryl _always_ soared whenever their lifts demanded it, enough that they once almost seriously considered switching to pairs (Charlie put his foot down firmly after finding out about the hand-to-hand lasso type overhead lifts. “ _That’s six feet you’ll be falling, Meryl!”_ ).

Now, however, Meryl wasn’t sure if she’d trust him with a novice-level _ice dance_ lift.

Their first try went safely, much to their relief. But it wasn’t _right._ It was incredibly slow and Meryl was gripping on Charlie’s shoulders for dear life.

They tried again, but this time, Charlie underestimated his speed, and Meryl crashed on his back and felt her breath slam out of her painfully. She tried to go on, but Charlie stopped abruptly.

“ _Again._ ”

So they did.

Meryl had _no_ idea how it could have happened. One moment she was being swung in the air, their hands in a tight grip, and the next, she was flying in ways no figure skater should. She couldn’t help herself, she screamed.

She could see Charlie in her peripheral vision, face twisted in an all-too-familiar look of horror. She heard him yelling her name. Then she landed, _hard,_ and felt the wind knocked out of her _again._ It wasn’t the first time she fell that week, but it was surely the hardest.

She was just so _tired._

Closing her eyes, she lay on the cold, unyielding ice and refused to move. Instinct told her to reassure Charlie that there was no harm done, but she was just so _done_ and so utterly spent. She felt, rather than heard, Charlie speeding towards her.

“Meryl. _Meryl._ ”

The pleading in Charlie’s voice was too much. She cracked an eye open and gave him a thumbs up, knowing that he’d understand.

Charlie gave a shuddering sigh of relief and lay down next to her.

“ _What the hell, Meryl.”_

Meryl wanted to be just _done_ with Charlie’s negativity. She really did. But everything hurt and she _felt_ what Charlie felt. She felt the exhaustion down to her soul, the uncertainty about their endeavors, and the almost undeniable desire to just give up. She wanted to simply stay sullen and ignore Charlie but her mind was crammed with flashbacks of Charlie lifting her gently after a fall, Charlie smoothing her bangs out of the way as she threw up a few weeks before, Charlie all angry and concerned, Charlie suffering a bad asthma attack and coming out of it just to ask her if she was okay. She simply could not _stay_ mad. But she was just so _tired._

“I know, Charlie,” she said.  “I know.” 

They lay there on the ice for what felt like an eternity, adjusting their breathing until they were in sync.  Their arms lay on their sides, their fingers a safe, but tantalizing, few inches apart from each other.

Charlie had expected another Meryl Davis pep talk, a speech of encouragement, or even her anger at his negativity. Instead he had gotten a Meryl Davis who had seemingly surrendered. Meryl was tired of falling, he knew. He knew that Meryl was tired of picking herself–-both of them–-up after every fall and keep on going. Perhaps it was time for him to catch her–-to catch _them–-_ this time.

His fingers moving seemingly of their own accord, he crossed the scant distance and grabbed her hand. He saw her eyes fly open. Wordlessly, he stood.

“We’re going to do this, Meryl.” There was grim determination in his tone. But this time, it was a calculated determination that disguised the sudden _fire_ of renewed _want_ in him. “We’re going to win the Olympics.”

Meryl’s appraising, apprehensive stare faded into one of utter _pride_ and hope.

“Okay, Charlie.”

They raced around the rink and flew into the accursed lift. And for the first time, they did it perfectly. Charlie set Meryl down and she gave him a smile Charlie always dubbed as The Meryl Smile. It was the one that seemed to come from an eternal well of happiness and joy. Her eyes just _glowed_ with it every single time and Charlie thought it was _so_ unfair how a smile could make _him,_ who has known her for more than seventeen years and who was committed in a long-term relationship with another woman, feel weak at the knees and almost, _almost_ hopelessly mired in something akin to love.

There was clapping and cheering from the boards.

“I knew you could do it!” Marina was yelling in glee.

Charlie knew that he ought to be mortified, that his coaches saw their little dramatic, _touchy_ moment on the ice. But he didn’t care because they were _going to win the Olympics._

He glanced at Meryl and smiled.

 

**5.**

Maksim Chmerkovskiy, Charlie knew, was a big _bear._ A sort of species-shifting bear that turned into an angry grizzly one moment and transformed into a teddy bear that just _demanded_ to be hugged into submission. He was fond of Meryl. And Meryl was fond of him.

It was _not_ that Charlie was jealous. He had a girlfriend, after all.

He was just so … _nonplussed._

Meryl seemed to appreciate Maks. She laughed at all his jokes, gamely agreed to every post-practice dinner, and, much to Charlie’s chagrin, looked at him occasionally with that _twinkle_ in her eye, the one she used to reserve for _Charlie._ On the ice, of course. (And even off it, if Charlie had to be completely honest with himself).

He _so_ was not jealous. He was just … worried.

After all, wasn’t this the man who hooked up with his partners and fellow pros? And his size – he was easily two Meryls put together.

So that was it. He was just so _concerned._

 

 

Meryl was confused.

For someone who made it clear that they were absolutely _not_ going to become a _thing,_ Charlie was becoming particularly clingy in the midst of their Dancing with the Stars escapade. He offered to join every post-practice dinner, offered to show Maks how to lift Meryl, offered to _dance_ with Meryl just to show Maks how much of a particular dance they knew. Worst of all, he was on an overprotective drive, visibly and verbally balking at the idea of Maks throwing Meryl around for the swing dance.

“ _He’s going to drop you._ ” Charlie had said viciously, stabbing a piece of lettuce with his fork over their lunch break. “ _You’re going to fall._ ”

Meryl flinched. _It’s nothing compared to how_ you _made me fall, Charlie,_ she thought with a trace of tired rancor. _Fall for you._

“You’ve dropped me before, Charlie,” she said. “And I _fell._ And I survived.”

“But I always _caught_ you,” Charlie whined.

 _Not when it mattered,_ Meryl wanted to bite back. But it wasn’t their time. Maybe it wasn’t even supposed to be their _life,_ only her little fantasy scenario in her head.

She was saved from having to answer when Maks bounded in the pantry.

“Ready, princess?”

Giving him a sickly sweet smile, she stood up, took his hand, and waved goodbye to Charlie. Charlie only responded with a glare.

“Be careful!” Charlie yelled.

Maks rolled his eyes good-naturedly and lifting Meryl by the waist, ran back to their studio.

It was a simple lift--or _toss--_ and Meryl had learned and practiced more taxing ones on _ice_ with Charlie when they had much more at stake. This was a piece of cake for her.

Until, of course, Maks put a _little_ too much strength on that toss and down Meryl went – _damn, it was from way higher than she was used to--_ crashing on the hardwood floor to her rather undignified scream and Maks’s yell of surprise.

Charlie’s frantic footsteps and him throwing their door open _just_ completed Meryl’s absolute humiliation that moment.

 

 

Charlie was _freaking out._

He was viciously shoving his salad in his mouth (to Sharna’s worried glances) when he heard Meryl _scream._ He must’ve dropped his poor salad--he didn’t care-–as he bounded out of the room and, his hatred for cardio be damned, ran to Meryl’s rehearsal room.

Meryl was sprawled on the floor, seemingly unhurt, and Charlie, relieved, stepped forward to help her up. Maks beat him to it, however, and knelt down beside Meryl and stroked her face with a gigantic finger.

 _Oh no,_ Charlie thought, as he stood frozen by the door. _What the hell._

“Are you okay, princess?” Maks said in a low, comforting tone. Charlie just wanted to throw up. Or disappear. Or altogether leave.

As if the universe wanted to prove that things _can_ get worse, Meryl smiled sweetly up at Maks, her eyes shining with appreciation and _adoration._ It was as if it was just the two of them--MnM, _Maksyl--_ in the room and Charlie was a mere prop.

“It’s okay, Maks. _I’m_ okay,” Meryl said just as lovingly.

Charlie was freaking out.

And now, he just wanted to be _sick._

 

**0.**

_You’re not going to fall. And if you do, I’m going to catch you. Always._

It had been four years since their Olympic gold.

They had gone so far. They had drifted apart, into what felt like an eternity of _incompleteness,_ with enough distance that they often wondered if they would ever find their way back.

But they did.

They should have know that they would always, _always_ find their way back, that going back to each other and going back home were one and the same.

They were back to skating competitively now, conquering competition after competition, placing themselves under USFSA again. Just as it should. Just as they _always_ wanted. Just as they needed.

The one season they missed out post-Sochi set them back and they had to crawl up to the top of the figure skating world _again_ as they “reinvented” themselves under Marina’s watchful eye and close guidance.

Even after two seasons, they weren’t a sure shoo-in for the Pyeongchang gold. Despite their third Worlds gold, media outlets refused to shine the same kind of attention they had for Sochi. They were too old, they said. The Worlds 2017 was a fluke, they said.

They couldn’t care less, though. They were with each other. They were doing what they loved _together._ And they were hopelessly, openly, wonderfully in love with each other.

They had taken a break from their training for a date Charlie arranged on the frozen lake where they had spent so many days together as children. The weather was incredible--the sun was gently shining, there was not a cloud in sight, and the air was crisp and wintry.

“We’re not going to fall through the ice, are we?” Meryl asked worriedly.

Charlie snorted, their hands still intertwined as they stepped on the surface with their skates.

“We aren’t. Don’t worry about it, Mer,” he said with a smirk. “No triple saltos, okay?”

Meryl laughed that glorious, beautiful laugh Charlie always basked in. “Whatever, Charlie.”

It was a simple date and Meryl wanted nothing more. It was a perfect day with her … _boyfriend_ (Meryl still had a hard time grasping the idea that _Charlie_ has been her _boyfriend_ for two years. ‘Boyfriend’ seemed too childish, too small a word to grasp the idea that was _Charlie_ and everything they’ve been through in the last twenty or so years). She was in her skates, in the great outdoors she loved, and with the man she loved with _all of her._

They raced around, giggling, laughing, kissing, gazing in silence, even _dancing_ ( _New choreo, Mer!,_ Charlie had yelled).

The clouds started encroaching on the blue sky, however, and Meryl froze in their dance hold.

“It’s going to rain, Charlie,” she said with a gentle smile.

 _No, no, no,_ Charlie thought desperately. _Not yet._

Meryl extricated herself from Charlie’s arms and started gliding away.

In panic, Charlie grabbed her hand and swung her back before him.

He knelt on the ice on one knee and Meryl just _knew._

“Oh my god, Charl – ”

She was cut off when Charlie began talking insistently, desperately.

“Meryl, I can’t imagine life without you by my side. We’ve been together for twenty years. _Twenty years,_ Mer. And I want, I _need_ ,the next twenty--no, the next _four_ twenties, if we could do that--with you. I made a mistake, years ago, when I said we couldn’t be together – ”

“That was my mistake too – ”

“ _Hush,_ Meryl,” he said. But he was speaking more slowly now and a huge grin was spreading across his face.  “That was a mistake, Meryl. A mistake I’m never making _ever_ again. And I would gladly spend the rest of my life fixing that. Meryl, I know this speech is driving you crazy because it has no structure or organization. I’m sorry for that too.”

Meryl was grinning widely now.

Charlie went on. “But _god,_ I would _want_ you to be next to me for the _rest of my life._. I want you to be there everyday to tell me not to wear the same damned Ralph Lauren polo - ”

His grin widened at Meryl’s disbelieving giggle.

“ - I want to travel the world with you and visit the cities we couldn’t explore before because we were so busy. I want to go to those Italian villas you’ve always wanted to visit and go to the anthropological digs with you in _Egypt._ I want to teach _our_ kids how to skate - ”

Meryl had to gape at him. _Kids?_

“ - I want to show you to the world with the gold ring on your fingers to match our medals and I’ll be all, _she’s mine._ I want _you,_ Meryl - ”

Meryl felt like sobbing inside. This was so _unreal_ and, truth be told, she had spent a number of guilt-ridden nights dreaming of this _exact_ moment. 

Charlie had outdone his dream version by leaps and bounds.

“ - And it will be worth all the gold medals in the world if you would want me back too. Our lives are so, _so_ intertwined and I want them to be intertwined _one way more._ ”

He took a deep breath. He knew he said too much. His knee felt frozen on the ice, but he didn’t care.

He brought out a small box, his eyes still fixed on Meryl. It felt oddly cliché, but no less perfect. Meryl was staring at him, stunned, her eyes watery.

“Will you marry me, Meryl?”

Meryl released a squeak she would forever be ashamed of. She gazed at the little ring in the box, Charlie’s hopeful smile, his hair in all its curly glory, and she wondered if there were words in the English language the encapsulated _oh-my-god-I-cannot-be-happier-than-this-how-can-I-is-this-even-real-do-I-pinch-myself-now?_

‘ _Yes’_ wasn’t going to be enough for her. Not after twenty years of being part of each other’s lives.

She gazed at the ring, hopelessly wonderstruck and stunned wordless.

Charlie looked worried. “You do know you’re supposed to say something here, right?”

 _‘Yes’_ would have to do for now.

“Yes,” Meryl said with a joyous laugh. “Yes, yes, _yes,_ Charlie. _A million times yes._ ”

She smiled at him, tears leaking out of her eyes. Charlie felt that she was mirroring him, that by the way his heart fell into place and his soul feel like it was soaring, he was smiling at her like everything was alright with the world.

 _No,_ everything was _beautiful_ with the world.

She grasped the ring and they both stood and she kissed him. He lifted her high in the air and with her smiling face, her cheeks red with the cold, the background a perfect winter wonderland, he knew that _this_ was happiness.

The rain started falling gently on them even as the sun continued to shine. It felt like a scene out of a movie, with the beautiful girl and her prince on an ice rink, the sky a perfect shade of blue, with rain--and _snow?--_ falling softly on them.

Meryl could only smile, her happiness choking her words.

She had fallen for Charlie so, somany years ago. It had been a slow, but desperate fall.

And finally, _finally_ he had caught her.

“I told you,” Charlie said with a smile as they walked hand-in-hand to the car, “ _I wasn’t going to let you fall.”_

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to footnoterphone and mech_driver for their comments and help with this!  
> It was my first time to have my work edited and commented on before posting! I'm used to having my non-fiction and essays and articles edited, but not so much with my creative writing (probably because I rarely do any creative writing). And wow, having help and pre-publishing comments are so helpful! Thank you so much to you two! 
> 
> This has been my attempt at a sort-of one-shot to get over a writing block with Point it Home. I learned about the 5+1 format from years and years of reading Supernatural and Star Trek (!) fanfiction and it always struck me how poetic having a set of thematically linked one-shots (with the "twist" at the end!) would be. 
> 
> Please do leave a comment! I (unashamedly) love them.


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